


Sweet Lips on My Lips

by alienor_woods



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 09:25:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10241537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienor_woods/pseuds/alienor_woods
Summary: Clarke sneaks a look at him. “Have you ever--” she starts, tilting her head in hesitation. His brows flicker together, amused, and he looks so handsome, moonlight clear on the line of his cheek and nose, that she plows forward, because she can, and because she wants to. “Have you ever thought about us? Hooking up, I mean.”Bellamy lets out an incredulous bark of a laugh. “Of course,” he says, all surprise, no hesitation.[ Context-free feel-good fuckin'. ]





	

**Author's Note:**

> because my babies deserve a solid round of slow belly-to-belly sex. <3

The full moon turns the waves silver where they break against the beach. Their cups of moonshine are full, too, and strong. Monty and Jasper brewed a batch special for their trip, using buckets of blackberries they foraged from the woods outside Arkadia.

 

Clarke paces herself well. She so rarely takes a break, and she wants to remember it. Somewhere around the time her chest feels warm and the edges of her vision pleasantly fuzzy, until she finds herself in a circle of her friends, wedged between Monty and Bellamy.

 

When her cup is empty, Bellamy is ready with the bottle to refill it. “You deserve another,” he says with a wink, firelight flickering over his skin, and they share a silent toast. A flash from the past hits her-- _have some fun; you deserve it_ \--and she pulls her cup away from her a little sloppy loose. Bellamy’s eyes flick to her mouth, then back. Something other than the moonshine curls hot and sweet in her belly.

 

“Wanna take a walk?” she asks, before she thinks too much about it. He shrugs, hands off the bottle to Jasper, and together they make their way down to the surf, where the sand is wet flat and easier to wander on. For a nice while, they walk in quiet, arms bumping each other as the sounds of the party fade behind them.

 

She sneaks a look at him. “Have you ever--” she starts, tilting her head in hesitation. His brows flicker together, amused, and he looks so handsome, moonlight clear on the line of his cheek and nose, that she plows forward, because she can, and because she wants to. “Have you ever thought about us? Hooking up, I mean.”

 

Bellamy lets out an incredulous bark of a laugh. “Of course,” he says, all surprise, no hesitation.

 

“When?” she pushes.

 

She’d thought she’d be satisfied with just a _yes_ or a _no_ , but now she needs to _know_. Needs to know whatever image in his mind had made him so sure, if it’s the same as her own, and the way he hesitates to answer her only makes her feel needier, tighter, hotter. “You first,” he says after a minute, hedging.

 

“Me?”

 

“Well.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and pretends to look out over the ocean. “You were thinking about it, weren’t you? Just now. What were _you_ thinking about?”

 

“Unity Day.” She admits. “The first on the ground. You did the same thing then, telling me to have fun. But it felt like you were flirting with me. And I...wanted you to. To flirt with me. I wanted to flirt with you, too. I wanted--” she laughs, just once. He’s looking at her. Her cheeks feel as warm as his looked just a moment ago. “--I wanted a lot more than flirting.”

 

“Me, too.” His eyes glitter at her, and his mouth is doing that thing where he presses his lips tight together against the smile that wants to split his face wide. “Remember the bunker, the one with the guns?”

 

“The one you _hallucinated_ in?”

 

“Before that,” he says, faking long-suffering even as he swerves closer to knock her elbow with his own. “When we found the guns and you were playing around with target practice? You had no fucking clue what you were doing, but you looked so hot, and then you popped off a round and said something sounding all--” he cleared his throat. “It was hot. So, yeah. That was the first time I wanted to fuck you.”

 

“The _first_ time?” she teases, unable to help herself when he’s all gruff and flustered like this.

 

He _tch-_ es at her. “Oh, c’mon, Clarke,” he says, shaking his hair out of his eyes. The look he shoots her is sweetly fond, and she lets it slip past her defenses and wrap around her heart. “You’re annoying, not dumb.”

 

Clarke snags his wrist. “Hey.” He stops easy, turns towards her, his lips still pressed together in that flirty smile she loves so much. “Hey, c’mere,” she murmurs, and then they’re kissing there on the beach, held together at the mouth and wrist, until he stepped closer and slid his other palm around her neck. He turns her head and slides his tongue into her mouth, all natural ease and self-assurance, all Bellamy.

 

They retreat into the dunes together, holding onto each other for balance in the shifting sand, stopping here and there to kiss and touch.

 

“Put some clothes down,” she whispers into his neck when he works them down to the warm sand. He hums, not totally understanding, until she pinches his arm and hisses about sand in bad places. They make a patchwork pallet of their jackets and shirts onto which Bellamy presses her, fingers twined through hers, and mouth slow and humid on her sternum. She arches up, twisting until his lips close mercifully around a nipple.

 

“Bell,” she sighs. Her knee twines up around his hip, holding him against her.

 

He lets her nipple go with a slick pop and nuzzles the soft give of her breast. “That feels good?” he asks, then leans over to take her other nipple between the edges of his teeth.

 

Clarke grips tight to his hands and presses into the backs of her arms, giggles at how Bellamy swears when her tits slide up her chest. “Lick at the undersides,” she asks. He doesn’t need to be told twice. He flattens his tongue to the pale curve of one breast, sucks a secret bloom onto the other until she’s a mess, shivering and whining against him, her breathy desperation swelling his cock against her thigh.

 

He kisses her again, letting one of her hands go to run his palm along the line of her body. She rolls her body towards it, shameless, trading breathy chuckles with Bellamy as they kiss and kiss and kiss. When his fingers tease under her panties, she’s breathless with wanting and her knees open wide for him. Even with the ocean so close, they both hear the wet of her cunt. Bellamy laughs, amazed and free, and nips at her ear when her hips rock up to meet the thrust of his fingers.

 

“You want off?” he husks, his thumb already setting up shop on her clit, his knuckles stretching the seams of her panties. She kisses him and shoves at her panties until they’re twisted obscene and moonlit past her knees. Bellamy can’t stop looking at her--her face, her tits, her spread thighs and damp curls, pulling his fingers out to grind the pads filthy hard on her clit while he kisses her--and Clarke gasps and giggles into his cheek, his neck, his mouth, until she’s pumping her hips up to his hand, her breath high in her chest. Bellamy grounds her down through their interlaced fingers above her head, spills encouragement into her ear when he’s not kissing her.

 

“I’ll get you off,” he assures her, laughs when she fucks her hips up high and sharp. “Yeah, come get it, there you go. You’re so gorgeous like this, Clarke--” he devolves into praise and then into fantasy, licking her lip when she bites on it and telling her he’s wanted her mouth on his prick for so long, so _be gentle with that mouth of yours, yeah? I wanna see it all stretched out, but only if you don’t hurt it first, sweetheart._ She’s thought of blowing Bellamy so many times but never with him grunting in her ear about it, and she flings her free hand down to join his at her cunt.

 

“Therethereright _there_ ,” she groans, whines when he curses something about _look at you jesus fuck look at you Clarke_ \--

 

After she’s down and the world stops spinning, she rolls him down under her and drapes herself over him, kissing him long and deep until his fingers knot in the hair at the nape of her neck. She’s merciless, dragging her hair and nails across his skin and laughing, delighted, when his belly tightens and his cock jumps and flushes.  It weeps precum and Clarke straddles his thighs and drags her finger across his slit, keeps her eyes on his while she smears the bead of milky semen onto her aereola. He grabs at her, hauls her tits up to his face so he can suck at them again.

 

“I thought you wanted my lips stretched on your cock,” she teases, watching as he shamelessly nestles his face between her swaying breasts.

 

“Another time,” he rumbles, mouthing his way back to her lips. She feels his hand sneak between their bodies to stroke his cock, test her wetness. “You want me like this?”

 

She kisses him. “Another time. I want you closer.” His smile is infectious, and they kiss as they roll Clarke onto her back and guide Bellamy’s dick between her folds.

 

For a long moment, it’s all heavy breaths through slack mouths as Bellamy presses forward into the cradle of Clarke’s hips. “Close enough?” he asks, voice shaking only a little bit as he drops to his elbows, runs his nose along hers. She’s shivering, full, sweet, and slides her hands from his hips up his firm waist and around his strong back.

 

“Yes,” she breathes, gasps when he gives his first thrust into her. “Oh, yes.”

 

“Yeah?” he sounds just as shaken-giddy as she is. He nudges her nose again, ghosts a kiss over her top lip. “Good?”

 

“So good,” she assures him. She hikes a knee up, presses through her other heel the next time he rocks into her. He can sink a bit deeper now, and they shiver. He’s a warm blanket of muscle and bone draped over her, held firm between her thighs, his belly flexing strong and slow against her own. She holds tight to him, clinging first to his shoulder blades, then to his arms, where they cage her head in. “Oh,” she sighs, “oh, Bell.”

 

He catches her mouth and they kiss again, open-mouthed, grunting a bit when it’s too much and his hips can’t help but fuck up strong and hard once, twice. “Christ,” he mutters against her lips, hisses when her thighs tighten. “You want me to fuck you like that, Clarke? I won’t last, but--”

 

“No, no,” she breathes. “Let’s be slow. I like you like this.”

 

His smile is wide and guileless, and he looks young again. She _feels_ young again. “I like you like this, too,” he whispers, and presses into his elbows to rock his prick into her, deep and sure.

 

She gets wetter, and he feels it, drops his forehead to hers and curses through the _in-out_ drag of his hips. Clarke curls her blunt nails into the bellies of his biceps. “We have time.”

 

“So much time.” His words are getting tighter, higher in his throat. Her heart flutters and soars. “We’ll have more time, right? After this--Clarke--I want more--”

 

“Yes, I promise,” She turns her head and sucks on the soft skin of his inner arm. His cock swells and he shudders over her, eyes black with wanting as he watches her mouth purse and feels the point of her tongue flicker on his skin. “You think we’re gonna be able to stop, now?”

 

He laughs and licks at the corner of her jaw. He moves strong and firm against her, ass flexing under her calf, pelvis rocking against her clit. “Nope. Not now. I’m gonna fuck you six ways from Sunday, you know.”

 

She runs her hands back around his waist, finds the rise of his ass, relishes the flutter of his eyelashes. “Promise?”

 

He muffles his reply in her neck. “I promise. Shit, yeah, grab it just like that. I promise, babe, I'mma fuck you _so good_.” His strokes are getting shorter now, his belly losing the sweet softness it had when they first started. But he's still heavy and solid, everything Clarke wants and more.

 

“How did you want me? In the bunker, how did you want to fuck me?”

 

His laugh is shocked and ecstatic. She feels his jaw flutter against her cheek. His hair is damp at his temples. “Fast. I wanted you to--”

 

His hips pause, then pick up again, a bit faster. He’s close, but still going slow, fucking her almost in time to the waves rolling up the beach. “Tell me,” she urges, turning her head to lick at his ear. “Tell me how you wanted me, Bellamy.”

 

He groans and curves his body up over hers. “I could see down your shirt,” he admits, and Clarke bites her lip, thinking about Bellamy getting away with sneaking peeks at her tits before she started catching him doing it. “I wanted you facing me like this.” He shifts his weight so he can palm a breast. It changes the angle, and they both gasp and fall into each other’s mouths for a long second, Bellamy’s hand petting and stroking her tight nipple. “That fucking jacket--I wanted it open, _fuck_ , I wanted between your legs, I wanted to watch myself fuck you, I wanted to make your tits bounce. I wanted--” he can’t finish, his cock is starting to jump inside her, and she feels his thighs tightening, but he abandons her breast to fist her hair and Clarke _knows._

 

“We will,” she promises, and he covers her body again with a grateful groan, giving in to his prick’s need for sensory overload. She drags her nails to his low back, where the skin is slick with sweat, letting him rock into her without interference. “Next time, we will, Bell. You’ll fuck me hard next time, promise, yeah?”

 

“Holy shit,” he laughs, muffled into her neck. She snakes an arm back over her head and finds one of his hands. He grabs back at it. “Jesus fuck.”

 

The sand shifts under her foot, and she readjusts to keep her leverage. She’s not going to come again, not with how focused she is on Bellamy right now, but-- “Can you come going slow like this?”

 

“Yeah,” he gasps. He licks a bead of sweat from her throat. “Can I come inside you?”

 

She shudders because she hadn’t even _thought_ of that yet tonight and _god yes he can_ . “ _Please_ .” Her nails dig into the skin of his back and she widens her legs until he groan-gasps and finds her mouth with his. He’s a little gone after that, eyelashes fluttering and hips fucking down into her, shallow, Clarke clenching her cunt tight for the head of his cock, until he groans that _he’s coming oh fuck babe you’re so good_ and he grabs at her knee, pushing it back so he can get balls deep into her and fill her up with his come.

 

They’re both understandably dazed after, shivering as the night air and ocean breeze chill the sweat on their bodies. They distract themselves with slow kisses and soft whispers, fingers tracing the lines of each other’s bodies until they can sit up and sneak down to the surf when a cloud passes in front of the moon. The pretense of helping each other clean up gets their hands back on each other, and Clarke thinks she loves nothing more than the weight of his soft cock in her palm and his hands in her hair, holding her just right for him to kiss her.

 

Back at the party, everyone gives them sidelong stares and Monty winks at them when he offers more moonshine, but their cups are sandy from inattention, and they have to wipe them out before they can be refilled.

 

 _Oh, well_ . Clarke smiles over at Bellamy, who is swiping at his cup with cheeks flushed pink from the kids’ joking. _They’ll just get used to it._

**Author's Note:**

> and then they lived happily ever after the end.


End file.
